Chapter Text
When he opened his eyes again, Oliver knew instantly when and where he was.
His bedroom at the Queen family manor, the day after his return to Starling City.
He didn't move, didn't do more than blink at the ceiling above him as he wildly flit through his mental map of what had happened.
He'd fought the beings on Earth 38. He'd died. He was here.
Slipping his eyes closed, Oliver drew himself into his meditative breathing he'd learned from Ras al Ghul, struggling to calm the sudden surge of despair trying to sweep him under.
All of that. For nothing.
Images flashed through his mind, dealing with Slade, Damien Darke, the alien abduction, Adrian freaking Chase, Ricardo Diaz' smug psychotic grin, everything with Emiko - all of it. For nothing. He was back at the beginning, back before anything related to the List or his time as the Hood or the Arrow had even started. He didn't know how he knew, but Oliver could feel in his bones somehow that his mind or his soul or whatever had come back to this point in his past and he had the last eight years of hell spread out before him again.
Honestly, Oliver felt he shouldn't be surprised. Everything he'd done for Star City had apparently been for nothing, so why would his sacrifice during the Crisis be any different?
Resisting the urge to punch something, he curled onto his side, pulling a pillow over his head for an added block for the world.
He was back in Starling City. At the beginning.
Before he'd turned himself over to the FBI.
Before any psychopaths had threatened his family.
Before he'd realized just how many secrets his family kept from him.
Before the team left him.
Before Laurel died.
Before Slade took everything.
Before Felicity.
Before Tommy.
Before The Hood.
The last/next eight years spread out in his mind's eye and Oliver let the tears fall, not bothering to try to stifle the full body sob that rocked the bed. After everything he'd done, everything he'd given, every one he'd had to lose, he was back at the beginning of it all and he was tired, no, exhausted at the thought of having to do all that over again.
He sobbed again, and again, so completely uncaring of someone hearing him because dammit hadn't he given enough? Hadn't he lost enough? At what point did he get to rest? At what point did he get to have something good, without having to compromise?
Because once he'd involved someone else in his crusade, he'd had to compromise. Felicity and John didn't like his methods in the beginning, and so he'd compromised to keep the peace and damn shit if he was going through all that righteous condescending downtalk again. He'd compromised and walked away from The Arrow after the whole mess with Emiko because he hadn't immediately killed every member of the Ninth Circle that he came across because 'killing is bad'. He'd loved John, and he'd learned to love Felicity but honestly they had the luxury of the moral high ground, one they conveniently abandoned when it suited them. He loved Felicity, but he wasn't putting himself through that again.
And even that hurt, because no Felicity meant no Mia, and he'd loved his baby girl with every atom of his being from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. But Mia hadn't had the life he'd wanted her to, in fact had ended up living something much worse, and Oliver didn't know if he could truly say he loved her if he condemned her to living the same life twice. And that...that hurt more than the Red Death still making his nerves tingle, it hurt more than all the torture he'd endured on the island, it hurt more than being back here in his room again and everything that meant, because he'd just decided that his baby girl would never exist, and he had to be the worse kind of monster to do that and still say he loved her.
"Ollie?" A hand settled on his shoulder and Oliver launched up from the bed, stopping himself a split second before the fine bones in the hand he held in his grip gave way. The thin blanket he'd slept under slipped off to pool by his knee where he knelt with a hand wrapped too tight around a neck, Thea's wide, terrified eyes looking up at him. With a wordless shout, he dropped her like he'd been burnt, crawling backwards on the bed, useless apologies spilling past his lips. He had almost hurt Thea. What kind of monster was he? How did she get in here without him hearing her? And there she was again, crawling up to him.
"I'm sorry Thea, I didn't mean - "
"Shut up, you big idiot. I'm trying to hug you."
"N-stop, I hurt you."
But it was no use. Thea reached up and grabbed his head, shushing him, and all the tears he'd managed to stifle came crashing out of him and onto her crisp uniform skirt. But Oliver couldn't stop them from coming this time, and when Thea's arms came around him like a thin, warm barrier against the world, Oliver gave up the fight and lost himself to his tears.
It was hours later when he woke up, he could tell by the way the light hit the bit of wall he could see through his eyelashes. He laid there, warm and comfortable, the Red Death barely a buzz under his skin. His arm was wrapped around...Thea, he recognized from her scent, his face half smushed against her stomach. She'd changed into something soft, probably sweats, since the fabric beneath his skin wasn't the thin, uniform blouse she'd been wearing that morning, and he was probably 80% sure her skirt had been swapped for pants. Occasionally, her hand would run through his hair and for a moment Oliver just...existed. He was warm, he was safe, and no one needed anything from him right that moment. He could pretend that nothing was wrong, that his wife and baby girl were somewhere near, he could pretend that he was right back at the time he'd left the night before. He kept his eyes closed and just breathed.
His tv was on, soft murmuring filled the air. Something about fashion, if the little he could hear was right. There was also...snacks somewhere behind him. Something sweet-smelling and something else with artificial cheese, and Oliver wondered if they were the same things she'd loved as a kid.
He didn't want to lose Thea. The thought pierced the fog he'd been trying to hold on to, and Oliver tightened his arms around her. He didn't want to lose his baby sister. Not to Malcolm, not to the League, not to the drugs she was using right now. Ever since he'd come home the first time it seemed like he'd been losing her to something or another when he'd only ever wanted Thea safe and protected. It was why he'd flunked out of all the colleges he'd gone to; he didn't want to be away from his baby sister, and his parents just didn't see to get it.
Her hands came up to rest on his head and shoulder, and Oliver squeezed her a bit harder. "You gotta be okay, okay Speedy?"
"I'm okay, Ollie. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with worry, hands brushing his hair away from his face. "Nothing's wrong, I-I'm okay."
"You gotta be okay, okay? No more drugs okay? I cn't, I need - just please, okay?" And he was crying again.
"Okay, okay." Her arms tightened around his shoulders. "It's gonna be okay, Ollie. I'll stop."
Oliver let himself sob, not caring that he may be scaring Thea a little, if her rambling over his head was anything to go by. Half of him registered that he'd never cried this much in all his time since the island, but the other half, the bitter, angry half, vindictively thought that if a little water works would keep the events of the old timeline from happening, then so be it. He'd been tortured, betrayed and traumatized over the last five years and had been tortured, betrayed and traumatized by the previous eight and he was done pretending to be fine. It didn't get him anywhere, anyway.
Oliver wrapped both arm around his sister and cried. He cried for Thea, he cried for himself, he cried for everything he'd lost and would never have again, and at some point he cried himself to sleep.
~*~
Sometime later his room door opened, and by the short, quick footfalls on his carpet he figured it was his mother. He continued to drift, face still pressed to Thea's abdomen. He wasn't sure he wanted to see her, to be honest. Moira was a complicated topic. She'd lied to him about his son, paid off Samantha, made his dad push Emiko away. She'd put their family image above being a decent human being, and that wasn't something he could forgive easily, not after everything he'd been through because of it. She'd also gone along with Malcolm's plan for the Glades, and whether or not she knew about the Gambit, she was still responsible for all the lives lost on that last trip, including her own husband's.
But she was his mom, Momma, and everything she'd done she'd done to protect him and Thea, she'd said. Which he could understand, even if he didn't agree. He'd done some questionable things to protect William and Felicity, himself.
When he felt a different hand in his hair he startled, rocking up on his heels and into a crouch near the center of the mattress. He took a moment to blink the fog from his mind, looking between Thea, who was leveling a truly impressive glare at Moira, who stared at him in shock. The last few moments came back to him, slowly. Moira had come in, whispering to Thea if he'd woken up, Thea'd said he had but had fallen back asleep. Moira wanted to wake him for lunch, Thea disagreed, and Moira had typically responded with her 'I am your mother, I know what's best' nonsense.
Oliver blinked, reaching up to pull the hood of his shirt over his head, leaning back to sit with his legs folded in front of him. Part of him wondered how he'd managed to sleep at all on the too-soft mattress after year of sleeping on rocks, cave floors and freezing concrete, although he had to admit between being injected with the Red Death, still making his joints and every single scar zing and sapping his energy, the trip to Starling City from Hong Kong, the seemingly endless crying and eight years of memory settling into his head certainly helped. There was a thick, heavy quality to his thoughts he hadn't felt since he'd been coming down from Vertigo that one time, and he found he needed to concentrate more to actually think.
"Oliver, darling? How are you feeling?"
He rubbed at his eyes, going over his options. He didn't want to talk to Moira, since he didn't really know what he could say to her that wouldn't hurt her feelings with the state that he was in. On the other hand, he needed her to get a few balls rolling for his still-half-formed plan to work. Honestly, it was less of a plan and more of a checklist with only two points: get resurrected and kill Malcolm.
"Oliver? Oliver, I'm speaking to you."
He didn't want to answer her, much less look at her, not until he was sure he could a) hide how much he didn't want to see her and b) keep from crying for at least another 10 minutes. But then he remembered his decision to not hide the truth about his feelings from anyone anymore, and with that came a decision.
"Will you let him have a minute?" Thea cut in. "Jeez! He literally just woke up."
Oliver grunted, hoping it just looked like he was having a hard time waking up. "'m okay. I'm 'wake." He blinked down at his crossed ankles, slumping his shoulders. He didn't particularly care if he wasn't purporting himself like they heir to Queen Consolidated, but if she brought it up he couldn't be held responsible for his response. It was a hazy sort of thought, one he wasn't sure he was ready to dive into, but a part of him wondered how much different the other timeline would have turned out if she and his father had put their foot down and actually made him pay attention in school. Outside of his physical training, he hadn't anything to his credit besides his family's money, and when they lost that, the Queen family name. Moira and Robert had left him completely unprepared to handle the family responsibilities, Thea had been well on her way to repeating his mistakes, and Moira had done nothing. That, finally, earned her a short glare, before he ran a hand over his face, feigning tiredness.
"Well," Moira began, uncertainty clear in her voice. "Are you hungry? You've been using Thea as a pillow all day; perhaps you'd like to come down to the kitchen? Stretch your legs?"
"She's a good pillow" he mumbled. Thea crawled closer to him, bumping their shoulders, and Oliver tried to find a smile for her. He'd forgotten the panic the mention of food caused in him at this point. "I'm not hungry. Food is...hard."
Thea hugged him, resting her cheek against his arm. He peeked at Moira out of the corner of his eye, and yup, she looked shocked. No idea what to do. It may be a bit cruel, throwing her for a loop like this, but Oliver was done taking the brunt of everything so others could be comfortable. Plus it was true. He remembered how difficult it was adjusting to the heavy and regular fare of the US once he'd gotten back the first time, and honestly, if he could avoid the ever present nausea a bit longer he'd do just that, thanks. If he was going to have to live the next eight years over, he was going to be good to himself too. Maybe even put his happiness first for a change.
Honestly, the thought scared him a little bit. Would he turn into someone like Maxwell Lord who was only really concerned with getting what he wanted? He hoped not.
Moira seemed to have rallied herself, he could see out of the corner of his eye. "I see. What about - "
"Hey Speedy?" Thea's head popped up from where she'd been playing with his fingers. God, he missed his sister. "Can I borrow your phone for a bit? I think I want to call Tommy."
The teen narrowed her eyes at him. "You just want me out of the room, don't you?" Something else seemed to occur to her. "How do you know I don't have my phone on me anyway?"
Oliver gave a small smile. "You'd be texting. Please? Give me five minutes?"
She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I'll see if Raisa can make me a smoothie." She hopped off the bed, stopping to give Moira a look. "Do not make him cry." It was, frankly, way more amusing than it had any right to be, and Oliver stifled a grin against the neck of his hoodie. Thea flounced out of the room before Moira could respond, leaving them alone.
Moira turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Well, you wanted to speak to me, Oliver?"
He took a moment to look at her, really look at his mother, and found he wasn't moved by what he saw. Moira had always projected an impeccable image, one he'd never understood the need for. Even when walking around the manor she was svelte, polished, jewelry on and not a hair out of place. He'd never known the sheer number of secrets hiding behind her façade, and here she was, standing in his bedroom with the same aura of perfection around her. Only this time, Oliver knew what complete crap it really was.
"You are my mother, Moira, and I love you, but I don't trust you." He took a teensy bit of vindictive pleasure in the shock written across her face. "I don't trust you because I know about Samantha, I know about Kazumi and Emiko, and I know about Malcolm and the Undertaking and Thea." He watched his mother pale dispassionately, ignoring the way she swayed. He'd let her have the choice in the last timeline and that resulted in 503 deaths, Tommy among them. The trials of the next year were in part because she'd retained the position as head of the family instead of reinstating him when he'd been legally resurrected. Oliver hadn't cared in the least at the time, sure, but that wasn't an option in this timeline.
While he glared at her, he decided how much he could realistically know, since his only feasible source would have been his father. There was no way for him to know about his mother working with Malcolm at this stage, since Malcolm had only approached her after he'd been made aware of her investigation into the Gambit's sinking. He couldn't know about the investigation either, or about the wreckage sitting in a warehouse on the edge of town. Still, he had to put a stop to Malcolm. Not just to avoid the Undertaking, but for Thea. The man had done more to hurt his baby sister than any other experience in the last timeline combined. He was terrified that if she overheard them now, she'd want to claim Malcolm as her dad like she'd done in the old timeline, and he wasn't going to let that happen.
Moira found her voice. "Oliver - "
"Don't bother, please." He leveled the full weight of his glare. "Nothing you can say will change my mind. I intend to neutralize Malcolm before the Undertaking progresses any further, and you are either with me or against me. Choose now."
"Oliver, Malcolm is dangerous. His enforcer is deadly and - "
"Neither Malcolm nor his enforcer are a match for me. Only one of us is walking away from a confrontation, I can promise you." He couldn't very well tell her Malcolm and his enforcer were one and the same, since he couldn't know that. Neither could he tell her he'd trained with and exceeded Malcolm's instructors, since that technically hadn't happened yet. "Has he asked you to find out what I know yet?"
Moira watched him, eyes wide, before nodding. "I'm to report back to him tonight."
"Good. Tell him I want to meet, but I need some time to recover. Sometime next week, at his convenience. If he asks what I want to meet about or if I seem in favor of the Undertaking, say you couldn't tell. That should protect you, since I shouldn't know you're working with him."
"And if it doesn't?" Her eyes had narrowed.
"I'll handle it." He watched her grapple with that a moment. "Also, in case we weren't clear on the subject of Malcolm being a psychopath, if he finds out about Thea, there is no one to protect you from me, Mom. Do you understand?"
Moira trembled, although from fear or anger Oliver was sure he didn't know. "I understand."
"Good. I'd hate to be the reason Thea loses another parent. The other thing you can do for me right now is get in touch with Mrs. Loring to get me a legal resurrection as soon as possible." He fidgeted, the wound where Wintergreen drove his sword through his chest flaring with pain. He must have winced, because Moira drew near, concern plain on her face.
"Are you okay?"
Oliver wanted to roll his eyes, but he settled for being blunt. "Old wounds acting up."
Moira looked like she wanted to reach out and touch him, suddenly, all the fight in her winked out like candlelight. "Dr. Lamb...said you have many scars."
Oliver blinked, wanting to be angry, but the sudden change in topic and her obvious discomfort made him pause. "I was tortured, Mom. I washed up on an island I thought was deserted, and the last five years has been one form of torture after another. I came back with a lot more than just scars."
There were tears in her eyes, and Oliver looked away. "I've already done a psychiatric evaluation with Dr. Lamb. It should be easy for Attorney Loring to get a date set, in that regard."
She nodded slowly. "I'll see what she can do."
"Closed court, if at all possible." He remembered the circus his hearing had been in the last timeline; not something he wanted to repeat. "Invite the families of the crew, but if we can keep it at that, I'd be grateful."
She nodded, clasping her hands. "You didn't seem to hate me this much yesterday." She commented idly, or it would have been, had he not heard the catch in her voice at the last second.
"I don't hate you, Momma." He let himself feel the weight and confusion, his burning frustration and tiredness at being back here, where it all started, locking eyes with her and letting it all bleed through. "But I know things I didn't know before, and I can't live like I don't. Dad asked me to protect this family, all of it, and to right the wrongs he couldn't. That's all I'm trying to do."
He held her gaze, both of them fighting back tears. There was so much he wanted to tell her, to yell at her, demand answers, but Oliver didn't trust himself to broach any of that, not with Thea so close and his thoughts admittedly slower than he was used to. That conversation would have to wait until later.
Thea returned, breezing into the room with a thermos tucked into the crook of her arm, and the tense atmosphere broke. "Your five minutes are up, so I hope you're done." She hopped on the bed, crawling over just as he reached up to wipe the moisture away from his eyes. He looked up to see Thea giving their mother a reproachful look. "I told you not to make him cry!"
"Thea, no, its fine." He tucked her against him, an arm over her shoulder, pleased when she settled against his side with no resistance. It didn't even occur to him to be upset about crying again. "It's alright, I promise."
Thea hmphed, tucking her thermos under her chin.
Moira smiled, despite the attitude, looking between them fondly. "I'll leave you two to your afternoon, then. I take it you won't be going to school tomorrow either, Thea?
"Or Friday. We'll circle back on the weekend, see how Ollie feels."
Oliver appreciated that more than he could understand or articulate. Moira simply nodded, sending Oliver a significant look, before heading toward the door. "Then I'll leave you to it."
Moira had been gone three minutes when Thea piped up. "Everything okay with you and mom?"
Oliver smiled, leaning further and further against her till they both toppled over, Thea's muffled call of 'menace!' smushed against his shoulder. They rearranged themselves, with one tickle fight that he won because he wasn't afraid to play dirty and Thea'd always had very ticklish feet, before he answered.
"I just needed to say somethings to her, about some things Dad said to me."
"Well, why'd I have to leave?" She paused. "Dad didn't die on the Gambit?"
Oliver tugged her tighter against him, resting his lips against her forehead. "No, he didn't Speedy. I'm sorry.
"What happened?" He hated the shake in her voice. "Was it, was it sharks? Or - "
Oliver took a deep breath, bracing himself. He looked around for an anchor point, eyes scanning the part of the room he could see over Thea's head without moving. There, in the corner, a bright blue surf board he'd bought but never used. He could stare at that to remind him of where he was, who he was and what he had to do. "No, it wasn't sharks, Speedy. We made it onto a lifeboat, and after drifting for days with no land in sight he killed the last crewmember and shot himself so I could have a better chance at survival. There weren't enough rations or water and the last thing he said to me was to get back to you and mom." It wasn't, but Thea didn't need to know that. He'd only told her this much because shed probably hear the story at his hearing, and that wasn't the place to find out about a parent's death. He gathered her shaking form against his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Speedy. I wish it had been me instead - "
"Don't say that!" Thea looked furious, glaring up at him with tears smeared across her skin. "I wish neither of you had gotten on that stupid boat."
"Yeah, me too." In some ways, he really did.